


dig this grave

by KissedByNightshade



Category: Bleach
Genre: Dissociation, Flower Language, Gen, Gore, Implied 369, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 14:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7536793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KissedByNightshade/pseuds/KissedByNightshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don’t need to drag out old corpses. Somehow you always end up back here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dig this grave

**Author's Note:**

> Another month-old minific that I cleaned up for posting. Check out my writing tumblr @kissedbynightshade!

You weren’t made of crystal the last time you were here. Once, you were flesh and blood, but now something sterner takes hold as you stare at the empty air. Like stardust. After all, your ribs are swords and your arm is a guillotine, and the hole where your heart once was doles out judgment in place of emotions.

He doesn’t have the _honor_ of stardust lighting his footsteps. He’s made of soil now, soil and beetle shit. Maybe he always was; maybe you just didn’t see it soon enough. That’s okay. You know better now.

You consider unearthing his corpse, to make sure he’s really dead, to see the stains left by rotting flesh. To see worms waggling through lipless teeth — _he always did grin a bit too widely_. Maybe you’ll keep the teeth, just to prove you can; but no, that risks carrying him home with you. He won’t enter that sacred place where you lay your head, and he won’t ever get the chance to hurt those who sleep there too.

You don’t need to drag out old corpses. Somehow you always end up back _here_.

You consider lighting the cigarette you stole from Abarai’s side of the bed with the lighter you stile from Hisagi's, just to toss the ashes and rub out the remainder on the crude rock **she** dragged up for him. Why should she have to drag around anything for him? You drag around his corpse and she drags around his tombstone. Neither of you deserve this weight.

Anyway, the grave looks like shit. It’s the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen, this little hill where she buried him. You already snuffed out all the grass near it, and the only things growing within the circle of off-brown dirt are weeds, yellowing already in the early summer heat. It’s not even a _nice-looking_ rock, just a big hunk of limestone or something. No inscriptions, either. Blank slate, as unreadable as the man himself had always been.

What if things had gone differently? Who knows. Not really worth considering, yet you consider it anyway. Hell, your positions could so easily be reversed, were that the case. Or perhaps, under such circumstances, things wouldn’t _really_ be all that different.

He tried to destroy you, but here you are. Not alive but _living_. Standing over a grave where he is dead but refuses to die.

You burn the rice lily you brought for him before you go. _Outhouse lily_ , it’s called in some places, and in some circles it means a curse. How fitting. How very fitting.


End file.
